The Light of Hidden Flowers

by Oratorio

He'd pushed her away too many times. She knew he didn't mean it. She knew he wanted her but denied himself. She decided that this would be her one last shot at showing him how she felt. It was a night that neither of them would ever forget. Title from Pablo Neruda Sonnet XVII. "I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul."

I'd just about had enough of his shit.

Days of flirting through the messenger, making me smile with his silly lively jokes, his random, off-the-wall quirkiness. I had never met someone with the same ridiculous sense of humour as myself before, and it felt as if I'd been able to unleash the full extent of my own weirdness for the very first time. It was freeing, and wonderful. Whatever he'd said, I had an instant answer for - and he understood my idiotic puns too, laughing openly and genuinely without making me feel an ounce of stupid.

I was half in love with him before the first day was out, despite the bizarre and unsettling circumstances in which we'd met, and the fact he was only words on a messenger app or on the other end of a phone.

I'd even told him so just hours after we had met, when he had prank called me in a silly Russian accent to tell me that my bank account had been hacked and I needed to say those words in order to secure it. I'd grinned widely, then put on my best sultry voice to murmur, "Honey, I love you" down the phone. He'd called me cute. I remember it well, even though cute was definitely not the effect I was going for.

Since then, there had been days of solid flirting. The other members of the RFA had noticed, and commented on what a good match we seemed to be. I fully agreed, and had looked forward eagerly to the day Seven and I finally met. I felt that he could even be my soulmate.

I'd imagined a thrilling moment, both of us falling into each other's arms in a whirlwind of overwhelming attraction and excitement.

Of course, that's not what happened.

The hacker never let up, the unknown person who had led me to the apartment I was now pretty much trapped in had continued to make attacks on RFA, sending frightening emails to the group's members and infiltrating the previously-secure messenger app. I could see the stress that it was causing Seven, who was clearly under a lot of pressure from all angles. There were times in the chat room where not even I could pull a laugh from him, despite my best efforts. On a couple of occasions, he'd seemed anxious and morose. My heart had hurt for him, wishing that I could somehow make him better, help him to return to the fun and carefree person I had seen before.

Now he was here in the apartment, it had soon become clear that he had never really been that person in the first place. Or, at least, that side of him existed, but that he presented it to the world as a kind of mask to stop people getting too close to the other side of him. The one that I was seeing now.

I'd tried so hard to be understanding. I could see that he was hurting; the fact the hacker had turned out to be his brother was a wound that clearly cut deep. I knew that he was pushing me away because he felt that he had to, that he had no choice. That he didn't deserve anyone to take the risks that being close to him would entail.

He was wrong. But right now, I was sick of trying to show him that.

He slaved over his computers constantly, his eyes dark and sore, his skin pale. I brought him food, and he told me that we would never be together. I washed his clothes, and he warned me not to get too close. Every time I tried to talk to him, he would turn the conversation back to the same place.

Leave me alone, I don't care about you.

He was a poor actor. I could see in the depths of his eyes, in every movement of his body, that he cared too much for me. He'd never meant to, that much was clear. He'd simply got in too deep, and was trying to slam the gates down on these feelings he'd let loose. Trouble is, that's not how feelings work. Eventually I'd cracked.

"Luciel, you've made yourself patently clear. You don't have to keep banging on about how much you don't want me. Do you honestly think that's something I really want to hear, again and again?"

He stared at me, his mouth open.

I carried on. "Look, I'm just trying to be nice to you. Just trying to understand. If I bring you a plate of food, it's because I'm worried about the fact you haven't eaten for over a day. It isn't a sneak attack on your delicate manhood. So will you stop this lecturing, please? I feel bad enough as it is without having to endure having my nose rubbed in it again and again. I'm so done with it now."

I winced inwardly as I saw the flash of hurt on his face before he set his jaw and turned back to his screen. "You've got the message, then."

"Loud and clear, Luciel," I said. "I won't be bothering you again."

Then I went to my room, and cried myself to sleep.

The following day, he ordered in sushi. I refused to eat unless he did, so we sat together for the first time since he arrived at the apartment, all bristles and barriers. He watched me eating, a sadness in his eyes which I found almost unbearable to tolerate. Stupid man, I thought, stupid, stupid man to think that he can control the feelings that exist between us. To think that he can have any sway over how I feel about him, to try to take decisions for me that are only mine to make. I was irritated, confused, but mostly broken-hearted, thinking often about the fantasies I had created about what our lives could be together.

A part of me continued to imagine those possibilities, against my better judgement.

I watched his eyes as I shifted from the floor, my skirt rucked up around my thighs. I noticed how his gaze floated up my legs before he quickly glanced away, back down at his hands. It gave me an idea.

"Thanks for dinner, Seven," I said lightly. "I'm going to take a shower now."

He flushed and nodded, turning to focus on his screen. Yeah, I thought, this is my last big effort to get him to acknowledge me. If this doesn't work, then I'm throwing in the towel.

I spent the next two hours in the bathroom, washing and drying my hair, styling it, putting on make-up. I wanted to feel confident, a mask of my own perhaps. Then, rooting through the wardrobes, I found what I was looking for. I'd noticed the little vest top before, thinking it was pretty - a pale indigo silk, the colour of snow capped mountains under a clear night sky. It was tight on me - Rika must have been a size smaller - and strained a little across my breasts. But that only helped to create the effect I was going for. I stepped into a pair of skimpy black shorts, and wandered out into the lounge where Seven continued to tap, tap at his keyboard.

"Hey Seven," I said, "you not going to tidy up this mess?"

Seven laughed, not looking away from the screen. "I keep forgetting Vanderwood's not here. I don't suppose you want to be my maid? There seems to be an opening. Good rates of pay, no cat hair."

"No," I replied.

"Damn," Seven said, still typing away. "Guess I'll have to do it then. Kinda busy at the minute, though."

"Seven?"

I drew out the question in his name, leading him to turn and look at me. As soon as his chair swung round, his eyes went wide and I saw him swallow hard.

"What are you wearing?"

I glanced down at myself - as if I didn't know - and shrugged my shoulders. "Just something I found in the wardrobe. I was pretty hot."

I knew, from the full length mirror in Rika's bedroom, that my nipples were clearly outlined through the thin fabric of the top, my dark areolas shadowed beneath the silk. Seven couldn't look away.

"Uh… um… you should, hah, wear a jacket or something."

I raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Uhm, you know why," Seven said, his cheeks flushing red.

"I just said, I was hot. And I'll get even hotter doing the washing up. Come on, are you helping me with this or what?"

"I'd feel better if you put a jacket on."

"Well I wouldn't. What's the problem, anyway? Never seen a woman in a vest before?"

"It's, kinda, you know?"

"No, I don't know," I said, trying hard not to smile. "I'll be in the kitchen, Seven, and I could really do with a hand."

I'd washed a couple of plates before Seven made it out to the kitchen, wringing a tea towel in his hands. He still looked uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot and trying not to stand too close to me.

Time to step it up a notch.

"Oops," I said with a giggle, as I splashed some foamy water on to my top. The silk clung even more closely now, and the damp fabric hid virtually nothing. I heard Seven bite back a groan next to me.

"Can I borrow your tea towel?" I asked. He handed it over wordlessly, trying not to catch my eye. I scrubbed ferociously at the watermark before handing the tea towel back and slowly running one hand down across my breast, pretending that I was checking how dry it was. "Hope that won't stain," I said brightly, before turning back to the sink.

Seven said my name, barely above a whisper. I turned to him, one eyebrow raised.

"What are you trying to do to me?" he asked, his eyes pained.

"I'm trying to get you to do the drying up," I said.

"You know what I mean," he said, rubbing one hand across his forehead, leaving his hair sticking upright and damp with sweat.

I took pity on him. "Look, here's the deal," I said, brusquely. "I know you want me. I'm not ever going to deny that I want you, too. That's not even the half of it. I know you're scared. I know you think that even looking at me in any kind of sexual way will bring down the fires of hell upon my head."

Seven blushed at the mention of sex. I pressed on, secretly delighted to have dragged a reaction out of him.

"I don't know any more than you do how all this is going to end. But, you know what, even if it all goes horribly wrong, I don't want to regret anything. And I know that I'll regret not telling you how I feel, even if you don't want to hear it. Will you listen, at least?"

Seven nodded, struggling to meet my eyes.

"Okay. So, the thing is, I've never met anyone like you before. You're funny, you're smart, you're so damn intense. You're almost totally selfless -," I held up a hand as Seven tried to protest, "because all of this is you trying to protect me, to do what you think is best for others. You're brave, you're stubborn, you can't help but care about people even when you don't want to. Oh, and not to mention you look super fantastic in a shirt and jeans or in a maid's uniform. Not many people could pull that off. God Seven is one sexy mofo."

Seven had stopped trying to interrupt me, quite possibly because he had run out of words to say.

I moved closer to him and took his hand in mine. "You know I'm falling for you Luciel, that's why you've tried so hard to push me away. But I'm okay, you know? I don't need you to promise me the world. I don't need you to promise me anything beyond the moment we're in. If you can just do that… it will always be more than enough for me. I know you want to, I can see it in your eyes. And in return, I promise I won't ever ask anything more."

I took a deep breath, only remembering my state of dress when Seven stared down at my expanding chest.

"Right, that's my little soliloquy. Feel free to give me an answer."

He stood there silently for what felt like hours, his mouth sagging open slightly and his eyes not quite meeting mine.

"I can't be responsible for you," he said finally.

"I never asked you to be," I said. "I'm big enough and ugly enough to be responsible for my own life and my own decisions."

"You're not ugly," he said, quietly. I snickered.

"That's probably the nicest thing you've said to me since you turned up here."

"Ouch," he murmured, finally looking up to meet my eyes. "I'm sorry. I've been an absolute shit."

"Yeah. You have," I said. "But it's okay. I get it. You're trying to protect me, but I don't need protecting. I thought you knew things about me, genius hacker that you are, but what you clearly don't know is that I've been through enough stuff of my own to not be scared of yours. So are you going to come here, or what?"

Seven swallowed hard. I could see him trembling.

"I think I'm way more scared than you are right now, to be honest," he said.

I smiled at him, my expression softening. There were so many sides to Luciel, it seemed. Most of them seemed to involve some element of bravado, but not this one. I looked at him standing in front of me, hesitant and shy, and I thought it was as real and raw as I had seen him.

"What do you really want?" I asked him. "You can tell me. It's okay."

He sighed, a deep exhalation of breath which seemed to let all of the tension out of his body. His shoulders slumped and he looked defeated.

"What I can never have," he said, quietly. "What I don't deserve to have."

I raised my hand to his cheek and he leaned into my touch.

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that," I said, and kissed him.

For a moment he froze, making a noise like a whimper into my mouth. Then, it was as if the elastic holding him together had snapped with a violent twang. He made a rumbling sound which seemed to come from his chest, and his arms went around my waist, pulling me flush against his body as he deepened the kiss. It was awkward and sloppy, teeth clashing and too much tongue, but it was more enthusiastic than I had seen him be since we'd swapped jokes about Honey Buddha chips on the messenger. I revelled in the passion which rolled off him like waves, the desperation in the little noises he made as he ground himself against me as if I was the only woman he had ever touched. Perhaps I was.

When he pulled back from the kiss and stepped back, his eyes were glazed and he was out of breath.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"You have nothing to apologise for," I said. "Except, maybe, for stopping."

"But we should stop," he said, "before it gets out of hand."

"What if I don't want to?" I said, my voice breathy. "What if I want it to get out of hand? What if I want it to get so out of hand that we don't stop at all?"

Seven closed his eyes and I saw his throat work as he took several gulps of air.

"You don't know what you're doing to me," he whispered. "You don't know what you're getting into."

"Your pants, I was hoping," I said. "Which are, by the way, tight enough for me to see exactly what I'm doing to you."

Seven laughed out loud, his snorting giggle unsteady as he simultaneously shuddered.

"Oh God," he mumbled, his cheeks redder than his hair. "You're killing me."

"Don't die just yet," I said. "I haven't finished kissing you."

"Okay."

That seemed to be the only word he had left. He looked unravelled, standing on shaking legs, heat radiating from his body like a furnace. I took his hand and led him through to the lounge, and he followed without making a sound.

He barely made it to the sofa before his knees folded, collapsing him on to the cushions as if in a swoon. I fell with him, curling into his chest and hooking a leg across his thigh.

"Luciel," I said, gazing into his eyes. "You are so beautiful."

He shook his head in silent denial, frowning. "You're ridiculous."

"Of course," I said, "that's why we get on so well. But I'm dead serious about that."

"Then, thank you," he said, eyes dipping. The blush now curled as far as his ears, and I wondered if he was pink all over.

I leaned forward and kissed him again, my hands in his hair, controlling the contact. He let me take the lead this time, my lips soft and searching, my tongue tracing his mouth lightly. The desperation of our earlier kiss had been replaced with something gentler, more sensuous. It felt more like a beginning, the seeds of something more powerful than I could understand starting to take root in the breaths between us, the heat of our bodies entwining. I felt as if I could kiss him forever, just me and him here on this old sofa, as if it wasn't weird that I was in a stranger's house falling in love with a man I had only just met. As if I hadn't been targeted by a hacker, as if there was no danger in the world.

Maybe that's the way it could be, just for tonight.

I flattened my hands against Luciel's chest and straddled him, feeling the heat between my legs searing through my shorts. I knew that he could feel it too, and shuddered. Normally I would feel vulnerable at this moment, but for some reason Luciel made me feel powerful, sensual. I let out a long shaky sigh and bent to press my lips against his once more.

"God," he whispered as we pulled apart. "You're still not wearing that jacket."

I glanced down at the tight top which was most definitely in his eyeline. "Are my clothes bothering you, Luciel?"

He chuckled. "Yeah. You could say that. They're a bit distracting."

"Okay," I said, leaned back and whipped the vest off in one swift move.

"Gyah," Seven said. He dropped his head back against the sofa cushions and closed his eyes.

"Am I that awful that you can't bear to look at me?" I said, a teasing note in my voice.

"You're wicked," he muttered. I laughed and ground myself against his groin. He let out a noise like Elizabeth the 3rd being strangled.

"Totally evil," I agreed.

"I think Zen needs to save me from you."

"Do you want me to call him?"

Seven opened his eyes and huffed out a laugh. "No. No way."

I watched him drag his gaze down my body, felt him shiver beneath me as he focused on my naked breasts. He cursed quietly under his breath.

"See something you like?" I teased.

"Oh yeah," he said, his voice low. "This is... this is a dream, right?"

"If it is, it's one we're both having."

He laughed and shook his head. "I never imagined that I would ever..."

His voice trailed off and he sat in silence just looking at me. I remained like a statue on his lap, watching him take me in, watching his eyes map out my body as if he was trying to create an image in his mind to rival any of V's photographs.

"You're incredible," he said, eventually. "Yes. This has to be a dream."

"If it was a dream," I said, "would you be able to do this?"

I took his hand and placed it on my breast. His whole body went taut underneath me, as if a thousand volts had passed through him.

"Or would I be able to do this," I continued, palming his erection through his pants. He moaned softly.

"And would I feel like this," I said, moving his other hand between my thighs to feel the damp heat burning through my shorts.

Seven made an unintelligible noise and whispered my name, his voice wavering over the syllables.

"It's for you," I said, casually. "You do this to me, Luciel. Only you."

"I am going to die," he said, "I am going to die and they will bury me smiling."

"Don't be so dramatic," I said. "Although, don't the French call orgasms the little death? Perhaps that will do."

Seven spluttered. "You're shameless," he said.

"Totally," I replied. "One of us has to be."

"Oh God," he said, "you're going to think that I am such a clumsy fool."

"No, I won't," I said. "I'm going to think that you are lovely and gorgeous and utterly sexy."

He gave a bitter laugh. "No pressure."

I cupped his cheeks in my hands and kissed him lightly. "No. None at all. Just be you. That's all I want."

"Low expectations, then," he said, "always good."

"Luciel." My tone was scolding. "Stop it."

His eyes widened and he batted his lashes. "Stop what?"

"You know what. Now, come here and kiss me again."

I lowered my mouth to his and sank into more deep, passionate kisses. He was a quick learner, I thought, the anxious eagerness of his earlier kisses melted into soft, pillowy embraces. He explored me tenderly, his hands digging through my hair, his eyelashes fluttering as our tongues danced together in perfect synchronicity.

I breathed warmth into his mouth before he shifted his head to one side and began to work his way down my neck, tracing soft kisses along my skin like the fluttering wings of a moth circling a bright-lit lamp. I was that lamp. I felt as if my energy was shining so brightly that I could illuminate the whole town. It fizzed through my veins and tingled in the space between my thighs.

"Luciel," I murmured, my voice soft and cracking. "God, I want you so much."

He shuddered at my words and I felt the breath he exhaled flow over the skin of my throat. It tickled, and it sent further waves of heat through my whole body.

He kissed along the column of my throat, down across the pale freckled skin of my chest until his mouth met the rising flesh of my breasts. There, he hesitated, rapid puffs of breath dusting across my nipples and making me whine in protest at the withholding.

"Please," I whispered, and he slowly leaned forward and took one nipple in his mouth.

He got it wrong as much as he got it right, Luciel, but all the time he watched me from the corner of one amber eye, seeing what worked and what didn't pull a reaction. He kissed every inch of my exposed skin, his fingers dancing across me in tandem with his lips. I arched my back to press more of myself against him, into him. His touch felt wonderful, and I almost didn't want it to end. But first -

"Your turn," I said, tugging softly on his damp fringe.

"Huh, what?"

"I want to do something to you. For you. Please let me," I said, lacing my fingers through his hair. He gazed up at me, his eyes slightly unfocused.

"What?" he said again, frowning.

"You'll see," I replied. I wriggled from his lap and pulled him to his feet before perching on the edge of the sofa once more. He looked down at me with a confused expression, which quickly morphed into something that I could only describe as pained, once I lay my fingers on his belt buckle.

He said my name. It sounded like a warning.

"You deserve to feel good," I murmured, as I undid his pants and slid them down his legs. "You deserve to be the centre of the universe, right now."

Seven groaned and I felt his knees wobble. I gripped his hips to steady him and held him still for perhaps half a minute, so close that I could feel his body heat rolling from him, could smell the sweet musk of his arousal. Then I leaned forward, still holding him, and pressed a kiss to his shaft through his underwear. He hissed and tilted his head back, biting his lip.

"Is this okay?" I asked him, sliding fingers under the waistband of his boxers.

"Yeah," he said, through gritted teeth. "God, yeah."

I slithered his underwear around his ankles to join his pants, and leaned forward to breathe warm air over his shaft. He shivered and sighed, the small tawny hairs on his abdomen prickling. When I gave him a long, lazy lick he made a noise which didn't quite sound human. It was so full of need that it shot straight to my centre, and I squeezed my thighs together and wriggled uncomfortably. I would have to wait. This was more important.

Slowly, I ran my tongue along him, alternating circular licks with soft wet kisses. I felt him grow harder at my touch, and he seemed to be struggling to stay still. His hands petted my hair and the moans he emitted sounded better to me than any of Zen's musicals ever could.

When I took him fully into my mouth he said my name again, over and over, and his whole body shook. It only took a few slides of my lips against his heated velveteen skin for him to start bucking his hips, telling me to stop, stop, he was going to come. I wrapped my arms around his waist and held him close as he dissolved into gasps and cries, pulsing and shuddering. I pulled back slowly, dropping kisses on the tip of his softening cock and looking up into his eyes. He looked as if he had shattered, glazed and panting.

One small tug on his hand, and he collapsed beside me, speechless.

"Was that okay, then?" I asked with a smile. He nodded so furiously that his hair flopped about in matted tufts.

"You're a goddess of galaxies far greater than God Seven ever ascended to," he said, once he had caught his breath.

"We aren't finished, either," I said with a grin.

"I will worship you for as long as you wish," he said, smiling back at me. For the first time I could remember since he had come to the apartment, the smile reached his eyes. They glittered like polished gold, slightly damp from tears which had welled up at some point during the past minutes.

"I'll hold you to that."

I let Seven sag into my lap, my hand running through his hair and down his spine as if he were a kitten, while he made small contented noises. The ache in my own groin was not going away, however, and so after some time had passed I kissed his head and whispered, "Ready for round two?"

"Mmhmm," he murmured. "Your turn to be the centre of the universe now, goddess 606."

I wasn't going to argue with that, and he led me over to the bed, shedding his T-shirt on the way. I jumped on to the mattress, bouncing like a child on Christmas morning.

"It's a trampoline now, is it?" he said, smiling at me indulgently.

"Nah," I said. "It's a receptacle for the best sex of your life."

Seven snorted. "That wouldn't be hard."

"Okay, okay," I said with a laugh. "For the best sex of my life, then."

"Again, no pressure," Seven said, rolling his eyes.

"It'll be the best because it's with you," I said, suddenly serious. "That is the most horrifically cheesy thing I may have ever said, but it's true. Just so you know."

It wasn't something I would normally say, but at that moment I felt that he needed to hear it, and certainly his eyes glinted with a strange emotion as the words spilled out of me. Then he kissed me again, hard and passionate, as if I was the air he needed to breathe.

I rolled back against the pillows, his weight coming to rest over me. Seven growled deep in his throat as he once again began to kiss along my throat and chest, interspersing light pecks with gentle nibbles and licks. He explored every inch of my exposed skin, leaving me begging him for more.

"Patience," he said, his voice husky, as I tugged his hands to the button of my shorts.

"I might die," I whined.

"Then, since you are the death of me also, we can be ghosts together," Seven said. He dragged his fingers along my sides in a tickling motion. "Whooooo!"

"Stop it," I said, giggling.

"We can haunt the RFA forever and taunt Zen with all the great dead person sex we are having," he continued.

I hit him with a pillow. "Luciel!"

"Of course, we'd have to be ghosts rather than zombies, or bits might fall off," he mused, still tickling me. I wriggled beneath him and my giggles turned into belly laughs so violent that I thought I might cry or wet myself.

"Please stop," I wheezed, pushing at him helplessly.

"Okay," he said, swiftly divesting me of both my shorts and knickers, throwing them into a pile of laundry beside the bed. It was as if a switch had been flicked, and the whole atmosphere changed. He focused intently on my nudity, his eyes going dark.

"You're beautiful, 606," he said. And then he leaned forward and pressed his mouth against my centre. I shrieked and raised my hips from the bed. The sensation of his tongue against my most sensitive parts was almost unbearable. He had to hold me down as I writhed and scrabbled against the sheets, crying out his name.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him gazing up at me as he licked and stroked me, his golden eyes never once leaving my face. Inwardly I cringed at the faces I was pulling for him, but he didn't seem to mind. It felt as if I was basking in the glow of his gentle gaze, that for that moment I really was the centre of his galaxy.

And at that thought, I was surrounded by stars.

They exploded behind my eyes, first, and they fizzed and shone through my veins. My toes curled and I wailed and sobbed as the sensations swept over my whole body. Through it all, Seven kept on watching me, kept on with the magic he was working. I had never felt pleasure like it before in my life, and when the last shocks of my climax were sparking out I tugged on his hair and dragged him up to lie by my side as I lay panting and spent on the bed sheets.

"So it seems you really are a god," I said, my voice rough and worn.

Seven chuckled. "Beginner's luck."

"Is there no end to God Seven's natural talents?" I said. "Ah, hang on. Doing the laundry, am I right?"

"Such things as laundry are for mere mortals," Seven said dismissively. "I'm sure that if I so wished, I could do the best laundry in the universe. But Vanderwood does it for me."

"Except here, where I do it for you."

"Worship your God Seven," he said. "Make to him offerings fit for a ruler of the galaxies."

"Then I will," I said, and rolled over to kiss him.

"Acceptable," he murmured, his words muffled by my lips. I poked him in the side.

"I haven't finished yet," I said, pushing him down on to his back. He raised his eyebrows and grinned at me, looking for all the world like he was about to burst with excitement, although he was clearly trying to hide it. He was doing a bad job, as usual. Lucky Zen was the actor, I thought with a smile.

I dragged my fingertips down the skin of his chest, following the lines of his pale tan freckles as if I was completing an abstract dot-to-dot puzzle. His skin was pink and flushed, and he looked gorgeous. I stroked over his nipples lightly, following a thin trail of amber hair down across his stomach until my fingers hovered close to his erection.

"Please," he whimpered, shifting his hips towards my hands.

I smiled and slid my thigh across his, lifting myself up to straddle him as I looked down into his face. His wide eyes glimmered in the half-light of the room. He looked as if he would do anything I asked of him, if I would only keep going.

He confirmed this with his next words.

"Don't stop," he said, his voice cracking, as I hovered above him. I wondered how long I could make him wait.

I lowered my body slightly and tilted my hips, sliding his cock along the edges of my slick folds. Oh, that felt good. I moaned and closed my eyes, and repeated the movement a few more times.

When I gazed down at him again, Seven looked desperate. His fingers were digging into my waist, and he stared at me with a pleading look in his eyes.

"How badly do you want me right now?" I asked him.

Seven shook his head, laughing breathlessly. "Uhm, I want you 3.1415926535897-"

"Stop," I said, giggling myself.

"By which, of course, I mean an infinite amount," he said, beaming up at me. I felt something clench inside of me. I adored this man.

"I love you, Luciel," I said, at the exact moment I sank down and took him inside me.

He swore and rubbed his hand across his eyes, barely able to meet my gaze as the sensations of our joining swept over him. His hips rose and fell in a stuttering tempo, trying to thrust inside me. I put a hand on his chest to steady him and he took several deep, gasping breaths.

"Relax," I said, and he stilled. I held myself still for some moments, watching him, before I began to shift.

This time, he let me lead him into a steady, rocking rhythm. The friction of him against my soft heat was delicious, and I bit my lip as I ground down onto him. Seven looked completely undone, his hair a mess against the pillow that he was trying to bury his head into, his eyes blinking rapidly, glassy and intense. He was breathing hard, one hand on my hip and the other curled into the sheets, twisting and pulling.

"Feel good?" I asked, tightening my muscles around him.

"Ahhhn," he groaned, pushing up into me.

"You feel so amazing, Luciel," I murmured, increasing the pace of my movements. "You're incredible. I can feel you everywhere inside me. I love the way you fuck me."

"Oh… my…. god…"

Seven's fingers were drumming against my waist, pinching and tapping a ditty against my overheated skin. His jaw was set in a tight line and he was clearly struggling for control. I decided that I wouldn't make it easy for him.

"Touch me Luciel," I said, guiding his other hand between my thighs. "I want you to feel me come."

Seven cursed under his breath, his finger circling and rubbing against my clit. I wriggled, feeling myself building up to my second climax. It wouldn't take much longer, I thought, just a little more pressure, just a little more…

Then I was clamping down on him, loud moans pouring from my mouth, calling Seven's name, saying words that didn't even make sense. I had never peaked twice in the same night with a man before, and if anything the second time was even more powerful than the first. I quivered and shook, feeling my walls contract around him, tipping him over the edge into his own orgasm. He held me tightly around my waist, shuddering with the power of his climax before collapsing back onto the pillow, panting.

I held him inside me as he softened, looking down at him with tender affection. Here in this moment, there was no offbeat clown, fooling around and joking. There was no fractious and prickly loner, putting up spiked walls of anger to keep everyone away. In their place lay a man who was finally opening up to his emotions, finally accepting them as real. I watched him lie on the pillows, watching me, a faint smile on his lips and in his eyes. He looked raw and vulnerable, and I loved him.

As he slid out of me, I moved forward and curled up against his chest, feeling his fingers play with my hair.

"That was unbelievable," I said. "You were amazing."

Seven made a light humming noise. "So were you. I never imagined that it would feel like that. I suppose I never let myself imagine it, really."

"I'm glad," I said fiercely, looking up into his eyes. "I want to make you feel good."

"You did that," he said, pressing a kiss to my forehead and letting out a deep sigh. "You're the one who deserves to feel good, though, so I hope that I can be worth it. I hope that I can make you feel good enough to cope with all the bad stuff I come with."

"Luciel," I said, "we both deserve to feel good, and if we can do that for each other then I think we need to celebrate that. Grab this chance with both hands, and revel in it."

He shook his head. "I don't know why you think that about me, but I've got a long way to go yet before I have earned that right. I'm trying, though. That's all I can promise you, right now."

I kissed his mouth lightly and pulled him close, resting my head on his shoulder.

"That's enough," I said into his ear, feeling him shiver in my arms. "You're enough. Just as you are."

I held him that way until I heard his breathing even out. It wasn't much later before I fell asleep too, my arm still slung across his chest, his skin warm against mine.